Broken Wings
by Leslet
Summary: 200 AU. The team get there too late. Emily POV.


Disclaimer: Alas, Criminal Minds is not mine, but I enjoy borrowing it greatly.

Summary: Though 200 itself was a bit of a disappointment IMHO, it has spurned a lot of AU ideas for me. This is one of them.

_Broken Wings_

Emily lays her clothes out the night before. The black dress, purchased yesterday, hangs carefully from the hotel desk chair, a dark jacket next to it. When her alarm goes off at 7am she hasn't really slept and she pulls herself from the covers with an aching slowness of a women not wanting to start this day at all.

The florescent light and the bathroom mirror are cruel companions as she gets ready. They conspire not to hide any part of the fatigue from her dark features and it takes time and a good deal of effort for the pale pallor and dark circles under her eyes to disappear and they never completely do.

When she looks at her watch it's 7.45am, and she's an hour too early to go wait downstairs for Hotch to pick her up. Any other day she would help herself to the breakfast buffet or order room service, but the thought of food makes her feel nauseous. Instead she brews a particularly strong pot of coffee and turns on the television for some distraction.

It's CNN and before she can flick to a new channel, the anchor is recapping the headlines for the day.

'_In Washington today the funeral of FBI Agent Jennifer Jareau will be taking place. Agent Jareau was killed in the line of duty in the district last Wednesday. Law enforcement officers from around the country are expected to join Agent Jareau's family and friends to pay their respects. An official report on the incident has not yet been released, but sources have confirmed that Agent Jareau was a profiler with the FBI's elite Behavioural Analysis Unit. She leaves behind a husband and a 5 year old son' _

'_Meanwhile in Hollywood…_' the subject moves on, as though the news of a dead mother doesn't deserve a moments pause and Emily stares blankly as they display images of some flashy awards ceremony and its sickening glamour; tanned, toned bodies in shimmering fabric, who continue to live and breath and laugh while Jennifer Jareau is about to be buried.

When it is time she makes her way downstairs to the lobby of the hotel. When Hotch pulls up to the curb, he looks as he always does, dark suit, stern expression. There's a mark on his cheek, where he has cut himself shaving, and Emily wonders if, just for a second, if the invisible weight on his shoulders (and the eulogy, handwritten, in his pocket) had distracted him.

They pull out into traffic without any small talk, and watch the rain collect on the windscreen as they weave through rush hour. They pick up Reid, who looks like he has aged several years since she had last worked with him, all that loss taking its toll, and drive in silence towards the cemetery.

There is already a crowd outside as they arrive, gathered under a sea of umbrellas. One cluster of uniforms is clearly Will's work colleagues; another set of well-dressed women must be JJ's college or high school friends. By the entrance a women Emily doesn't recognise and her two teenage children stand solemn and quiet. Later she'll realize this is JJ's sister-in -law and niece and nephew. She's surprised really, how many people she doesn't know.

The press has been told to leave well alone, but they pass a photographer or two waiting at a safe distance. She's seen press at funerals before, but watching them violate this last goodbye sends a chill of rage down her spine. As Morgan and Garcia arrive she watches Derek holding back his urge to yell at them to leave.

Garcia grabs a hold of Emily's hand and doesn't let go. They've both spent the last few days being strong for each other and its helped them make it this far. Of course as soon as the hearse pulls up, and the limo behind it, the pressure from Garcia's hand is painful and nothing can stop the tears from falling.

Will is holding Henry in his arms as he gets out of the car and only lets him go as the pull bearers silently converge. JJ's mom takes the boy's tiny hand and they walk silently towards the cemetery. Emily can't help but think of JJ's horror at seeing her beloved family so unbearably sad.

Will, Derek, Hotch, Reid, Rossi and JJ's brother carry the coffin. It's a short service, but about as long as anyone can bear.

Hotch speaks of heroism, of sacrifice and love and the words are beautiful drops in an ocean of grief. As Emily looks around at the crowd of mourners she wonders how many know the true nature of JJ's death. How many will ever know (should ever know) how they had found her with water in her lungs, how her whole left side had been mutilated by electrical burns. How the already bloody knife had sliced through her throat without hesitation. How her final moments were alone, hanging in the dark, in pain and with none of the dignity she so greatly deserved.

Later at the wake she watches Reid teach Henry a magic trick. The little boy has no idea really, of the rest of his life he has to live without his mom. There is so much of JJ in her child, peas in a pod. Her blue eyes are set behind the little boy's blonde bangs, kind and fiery. When he rolls his eyes at his godfather's antics he is all her.

Will (who grips his beer so tightly she's worried it might smash) watches them almost blankly from a few feet away. Hotch stands silently next to him, a stoic supporter. They are fathers of motherless sons and there are no words.

Later on the jet back across the Atlantic, she is relieved. Guilty too, for leaving the grief behind her in the broken grey of DC. The sun rises as they fly over Iceland, rays in all colours dancing between feathery clouds. It's as close to heaven as she knows how to get. Here, at 38,000 feet, she places her palm on the window, and whispers a goodbye.

_Thanks for reading. A review is always nice. _


End file.
